For one hour, tomorrow stayed outside the house

Dear Delyara, No lists entering me. No uniforms in my head. No school timing. No work concerns. No planning disguised as self-protection. No anticipatory tightening around what was coming next. Just the hour itself. Tea, warm light, a chair, a body gradually believing it did not have to get ready for the future yet. That kind of peace has become rare enough that I feel protective of it when it comes. So I’m writing it down before life turns it into something forgettable. I don’t want to forget it. I want more of it.